


Sit-down Comedy

by captorvatiing



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternia, Ancestor-Era, Bad Jokes, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Dirty Jokes, F/M, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captorvatiing/pseuds/captorvatiing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Redglare would have killed for an invitation to this party. Luckily she just had to put up with the Grand Highblood's truly awful sense of humour instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sit-down Comedy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MishiTamashi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishiTamashi/gifts).



> Hi! I hope this turns out to be the kind of thing you were looking for! I just have a couple of notes about the jokes real quick because I feel like it probably needs a warning, but I don't know how to tag it. 
> 
> Most of the jokes told here are dragged from the bowels of sickepedia and then altered to sound Alternian so I claim no credit for them and really, _really_ wouldn't want to. This fic features two dead baby jokes, one dirty priest joke, one violent/torture (?) joke, one "casteist" joke and a sex joke. Proceed with caution, a sick sense of humour and/or a high tolerance for bullshit. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Usually she would have been thrilled at a chance to mingle amongst the upper rungs of her career ladder, but Redglare knew already that the morning was going to be a disaster. 

You see it was only through what could loosely be described as some form of divine providence (or more accurately be described as the threat of a well placed high heel to the right bulge) that she’d managed to wrangle an invitation at all, rather than be hauled along in her Funday best as the Grand Highblood’s plus one. Of course everyone would know that the only way a tealblooded legisclacerator swung an invitation to this party in the first place was by the Grand Highblood’s hand, especially as he’d insisted on picking her up in his personal carriage, arriving with a firm hand around her waist despite her hissed protests. He’d introduced her personally, by her title and her merits as a legislacerator, to a short parade of seadwellers, smiling broadly with all his crooked teeth at their upturned noses until they grudgingly paid her due respect. To her great ire he was altogether playing the part of the respectful escort despite the stench of moon mist on his breath. He’d even, though she was loath to admit it, scrubbed up incredibly well. The jagged lines of his paint were drawn on and set in immaculate white grey and gold and his fists were heavy with rings set with stones that looked as though they were designed to bruise as much as they were to glitter. 

But then, when no one was looking, he’d honk her ass and wink or stick a finger in her drink and suck on it. At least once he’d managed to unhook her bra through the back of her dress uniform while she was talking to someone important.

By the Sufferer’s sacred leggings this was going to be a trial. 

Eventually as the introductions petered out, and all the guests had been served a cocktail or three, they were ushered through into a grand dining hall for the feast and oh, what a feast. For all that the patrons of the Alternian justice system were pompous assholes purchasing diplomatic immunity with ancestral inheritance they laid out one hell of a spread. They sat her opposite the Highblood, close enough that she could still be considered his guest to quiet the outrage in their hemophobic little pans, but far enough that the lords who were vainly attempting to garner his favour could sit at his right and left. All the better to pander to him with. He, of course, raised no objection since this angle was just perfect for tracing his bare foot up the inside of her leg. Hopefully no one else was able to read the glare that she shot him across the silverware, but his laugh made it clear that he knew exactly what she was thinking. 

Food was served and before long the old goat had the attention of half the table, leaning back in his seat and telling jokes with his feet propped up between Redglare’s knees. He waved a hand in front of him to hush his audience and caught her eye.

“Aight, aight, hold up- How’d you get a grub in a blender?” He grinned. “Feet first.” 

There were scattered giggles, but Redglare held his gaze unimpressed. He leant forward conspiratorially, waving a fork across the table.

“How’d you get the grub out of the blender?” 

For five entire seconds she refused to answer, so he slid his toes down the length of her boot forcing her to cough around a hiss, his smile twisting sharply at the corners. 

“I don’t know.” She said, her mouth a flat line. “How do you get a grub out of a blender?”

“Tortilla chips!” 

To her great credit she didn’t even twitch a muscle as the table erupted around her. But the Grand Highblood wasn’t looking at the trolls who are laughing, he had his eyes locked on Redglare’s shades, barely bothering to conceal his annoyance. She smiled back and forced a chuckle and his feet retreated back to his side of the table. He took a swig of his drink and continued his routine undeterred. 

“What’s the difference,” he started, “between a mutant and a traffic light? … I always stop when the light goes red!” 

She pursed her lips tighter. The Highblood didn’t know about her affiliation with the cult of the Sufferer, or at least, she really fucking hoped that he didn’t, but the joke was grating all the same. With a quiet clink of her glass against the table she leant across into his space, not daring to touch him yet but pinning him down with her shark grin all the same.

“Hilarious!” She said, in a tone that made it quite clear that she thought no such thing. “How about this one? A dirty old man, a communicant of the Mirthful Messiahs, and a cavern snatcher walk into a thirst shanty.”

He was already raising his eyebrows at her, daring her to say something sacrilegious in front of a table of his peers, so she left the build up hanging there for just a few beats longer. Just long enough to watch his eyes narrow in annoyance at a joke he didn’t have the knowledge of. She flicked her pointy tongue over her teeth and her grin stretched even wider.

“What’s the punchline?” He asked, feigning disinterest from behind his glass.

“They’re all the same troll!” 

The spray of grape faygo across the table was so graceful that she almost wasn’t mad that it splattered her pristine uniform, like water from a chiseled marble feature in one of the Condesce’s courts. Paint and pomp do wonders to mask emotion but Redglare caught the flicker of annoyance that flashed across his face after he laughed. Point one to the green-blues. In particular, this one green-blue, with a wicked grin on her face and flute of faygo lifted delicately to black painted lips. She flicked her foot out to graze the Highbloods knee as she crossed her legs and was shocked to find a hand grabbing the ankle of her boot. He held her there under the table, the threat of pulling hanging between them.

“What do you call an indigo blood in the Academy?” He said, ignoring the way the archeradicator general at his elbow tensed up. “A student!” He grinned, tightening his grip on her ankle and teasing his claw over the zip of her boot. “What do you call a tealblood in the Academy?” 

The corner of Redglare’s lips twitched. 

“A miracle!” He beamed.

The table around them burst into raucous laughter. Someone elbowed Redglare in the side, nudging and baying at her as if the dig hadn’t quite been obvious enough already. When she went to put the blunt end of her cane up his nose she found the Highblood’s grip on her leg prevented her from moving that far. Blood rushed to her face and her nostrils flared. How dare he. It wasn’t the joke that had her seeing little spades behind her eyelids, the joke was average at best, a flavour of casteist tripe that she was quite familiar with from her days studying among “true blues”, but he knew the idiots at the table with them would laugh. He knew that they’d know he was directing his jibes at her in particular and he had done it anyway. He’d done it because of that, specifically to knock her down a peg in front of people who already thought they were better than her. She cleared her throat as the laughter died out and dug her free heel into the bones of his wrist until he released her. Her feet hit the floor with a neat click and she slid her chair back from the table, folding her hands over the head of her cane between her legs.

“An old subjugglator wanted to seduce a legislacerator of a lower caste.” She started, an eyebrow arched neatly above her shades. “They decided to go out on a date for the first time, a formal affair, so naturally the tealblooded legislacerator went to her lusus for advice.”

The Grand Highblood grinned and leant back in his chair again folding his arms across his chest. Around them the rest of the guests had fallen into an uncomfortable silence, not sure if they should tear their eyes away from such an overt quadrant solicitation or not. 

“Her lusus says, ‘A subjugglator? Do you hate your caste so much? Here, sit with me and I’ll tell you about those highblood boys.’

“So her lusus sat her down and told her, ‘He is going to try to kiss you and you are going to like that, but don't let him do that. He is going to try to feel your rumble spheres and you are going to like that, but don't let him do that. And he is going to try to put his hand between your legs at the dinner table;’” He snorted, but she ignored him and continued. “‘You are going to like that, too, but don't let him do that.’

“Then the lusus said, ‘But, most importantly, he is going to try to get on top of you but you mustn’t let him, it’s a disgrace to your unit and your clade.’”  
She leveled him with a look over her shades that made the remaining spectators shift uncomfortably and look away. 

“So, with her lusus’ advice in mind, the legislacerator went on her hate-date. Everything went well and when she got home she couldn’t wait to tell her lusus about it, but it was late in the morning, so she headed straight to coon. 

“The next day she told her lusus that her date went just as her lusus warned her! ‘But!’ She said, ‘Don’t worry, dragonmom, I didn't let him disgrace my unit. When he tried, I turned him over, got on top of him and disgraced _his_ family!’”

No one laughed, but the the stunned silence was reaction enough. Redglare stood, her back ramrod straight as she bowed the bare minimum of respect to her company and shot the Grand Highblood a wink. Without a further word she spun on her heel and walked out of the room.

It took exactly eight seconds after the door clicked shut behind her before the Grand Highblood made his excuses and followed.


End file.
